


Audition.

by chwefilter



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Amputation, Character Death, Death, Home Invasion, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Stalking, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 17:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30025041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chwefilter/pseuds/chwefilter
Summary: After losing his second partner in 10 years, Seungcheol feels supported by his teenager son and accepts his friend's ideia to hold a fake audition in order to find a new person to love, that's when he meets Jihoon, a younger man with an angelical face and a horrible secret.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan
Kudos: 6





	1. Lights.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Audition.](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/776046) by Ryu Murakami.. 



> I'm not fluent at english so this work may contain typos.
> 
> P.S: I made this oneshot based on "Audition", a book written by Ryu Murakami. There's also a movie based on it, directed by Takashi Miike, but I took faithful traits from both works and fused it with original ideas. So you may identify some parts if you've seen the movie or read the book, but somethings were created by me.

** LIGHTS. **

**T** he truth is, Seungcheol was already burying his second partner in less than a decade. 

Yoon Jeonghan, 23, exactly two years younger than her posthumous husband, died of a malignant and inoperable brain tumor in 2011. His last months were devoted to the family, but not even that spared the boy's absence when he left.

It was difficult to explain to Chan, the couple's 5-year-old son, what happened to the man with long brown hair. Perhaps early conformity, perhaps ignorance, but the little boy only knew how to ask for the family dog when he saw his father's face through the coffin glass.

The mourning was very difficult for Seungcheol, who had to retire from his work to take care of his son and put his head in place, but the months passed and things didn’t changed at all.

The same happened five years earlier, when his ex-partner, Joshua Hong, died in a bizarre accident indoors. The corpse showed clear signs of hanging, giving the verdict of suicide, but there were marks of struggle and skin under the boy's fingernails.

At that time, suspicions fell on Choi, who was named as the prime suspect for contacting the other weeks before his murder, but the man was on a vacation trip at the time and was cleared of any charges —which did not lessen his sadness, as they never found the culprit for the murder of his ex-partner. If his husband hadn't died of cancer, they probably would have blamed him too and he'd be suspected of being a serial killer.

His greatest comfort was alcohol, which quickly evolved into severe alcoholism. The next three years of little Chan's life were showered with visits from men in white carrying his father on a stretcher to rehab countless times until he finally freed himself from addiction. He went in a steakhouse with the young man when he completed his 3rd year sober and, from that day on, the man decided that he would become a new person.

But a new person needed a new someone, that was a fact, but Seungcheol could not assimilate it; or maybe just didn't want to. He was 35 years old, his son had just completed his 15th spring, there was no reason to stagnate in life but grief.

Perhaps it was the way the widower's depression found to manifest itself, but sometimes he swore to see his late husband in the house in which he lived with him; sometimes he was in the kitchen doing kimbap, at others he was knitting and rarely visited him in bed. He had very pale skin, as when he was hospitalized, and his brown eyes were opaque, but were always fixed on him. He was frozen, waiting for drowsiness to hit him.

He vaguely remembered his son's convulsions and his shrill screams in conjunction with incessant cries, and remembered how cowardly he hid in the sheets with his head under his pillows until the child got tired of crying. He didn't know if Chan had forgotten those old days or if he had chosen not to remember for the sake of the father-and-son relationship.

In addition to having a good relationship today with his son, what had been one of the pillars of Seungcheol was his job. It was not common for men his age, who had also suffered great losses, to drown their sorrows at work. The only thing that prevented the man from committing suicide was actually spending days infuriated in the office when he still had control over his addictions. Being rehired by a larger company that paid him more was like giving him life again.

It was in this company that he met one of his few friends, as grief drove him away from everyone: Jeon  Wonwoo . He was a kind boy, a year younger and had a son the same age as Chan named Mingyu. Unlike himself, he was divorced from the father of his son, a Chinese (perhaps called Junhui, since one of Choi's bad traits was not paying much attention to details) who decided to try the actor's life in China and left without looking back. By the time they met, the youngest had been separated for a very short time, so he felt equally torn.

The pain brought them together and soon became great friends, that's when  Wonwoo's crazy idea began. The word "fresh start" escaped from his K _ loud _ beer-scenting lips and  Seungcheol was already seeing  Jeonghan haunting him the next day, so he had to swallow the absurd idea with five sips of the cold drink before denying it with all his might.

Despite the strong reaction, the other did not give up. During his three years of friendship, the young man's attacks never stopped and he never gave up on finding a new romantic pair for his friend. There were many reasons for him to reject them, but they always seemed to fall apart.

The hallucinations with Jeonghan simply stopped happening after a while. There was no reason, he did not take medications, they only stopped occurring and Seungcheol saw the last memory of his beloved disappear like dust in the wind.

He thought of Chan and how desolate he would be, until the day he appeared with the single mother of one of his friends, trying to introduce him to her in a blatant manner. He even had sex with her a few times, but the shock of knowing that even his young son had overcome the loss disturbed his.

He tried to cling to grief, but realized at the same time it was gone. He had overcome Jeonghan's tragic death long ago, but he was tortured for going so fast and clung to the memories as a way of not blaming himself for moving on. There was no reason to deny it anymore. 

He realized that when he was home, on another day off when Wonwoo crawled into his house without even being invited. The brown-haired boy was on the floor, pretending to read a newspaper in a blatant manner, while the host made a small wooden sculpture with his Swiss army knife. 

— I accept. 

Seungcheol's voice was so uncertain and low, different from his imposing ordinary tone, that the younger had to frown and wipe his ear with the index finger before tilting his head toward the other, incredulous.

— Have you gone deaf? I said I'm in. — The eldest grumbled, feeling an unreasoned irritation at seeing the expression of the boy. — Three years in a row insisting and doesn't grab the chance when you see it, frankly.

— I heard, I just couldn't believe my ears. Now, I can stop pretend I'm reading this old paper and show you what I really wanted. —  Wonwoo threw the piece of paper across the room and handed the unlocked phone into his friend's hand, watching him put on his reading glasses to see what was on the screen. — Read and see if it's not a good idea.

—  _ "An increase in young people looking for jobs in the art industry is growing by 15% compared to the past decade." _ ... — The dark man forced his eyes, reading the news. — What should that mean?

— Let's cut to the point. You're awful having conventional dates. You're hardly going to be able to find someone with that social phobia you have and your lack of charisma. — He spat straight facts, watching the nose of the other squirm. — I thought then of us taking advantage of this flock of desperate young people and trying to find the love of your life.

— ...what do you intend?

— You know that many of these fifth-rate singers and small actors are hired through street castings, right? —  Wonwoo raised his thick eyebrows, opening a suggestive smile. — Let's open a fake audition and select someone who's going to be your new date.

Seungcheol's eyes squeezed before they doubled in size, showing man's unbelief about his friend's proposal. He got up from his chair and placed the unfinished sculpture on the table, walking toward the kitchen while listening to his friend's hurried footsteps behind him.

— Don't you like the idea?

— It’s not only absurd but also evil, playing with the hope of young people because of something that we can achieve in other ways?

— Seungcheol, stick to the facts! You're a 35-year-old solo widower and father who hasn't been related to anyone in a decade, who's going to be interested in you when the only thing you put passion into is these damn wooden sculptures or in staying two quarters of your day locked in your office without exchanging a word with other people? — The youngest had a burst of honesty, which he repented of the moment he saw the other's nose twist again. That's what he had a habit of doing when you got upset. — Look, I just want the best for your life. Everybody's moved on, except you. Give me that gift. Time will soon run out, what have you done so far besides whining?

Seungcheol was struck by Wonwoo's icy words, as chilled as the Swiss cheese and chicken sandwich he picked up in the fridge before leaving the kitchen and picking up his bag, slamming the door behind him. 

Two days was taken for  Seungcheol to turn back, like a hungry dog who bit his feeder’s hand.

Wonwoo's plan was meticulous, but it still seemed inconsistent: they managed to rent a space on a mural of a busy building in the city center and there they put a brochure of auditions for aspiring actors, as well as renting an auditorium where the "recruitments" would take place. It was a risky idea, but Seungcheol realized that it was too far from the point where something could be denied.

The scheduled day was a Tuesday. The two had a doctor friend who would guarantee them a good certificate and then just go, but something seemed to stop Choi from doing it, something invisible, but very strong as the waves of the sea.

On the morning of the auditions, Seungcheol saw his exhausted face in the mirror. He wished to have a setback, that Jeonghan would appear and make him fall into alcohol again with his cadaveric look through the glass, that a wooden beam of the old house would cross his frontal lobe and impales him on the floor, anything that would prevent him from going, but soon he was already inside the car after saying goodbye to his son, still early.

The road to the rented auditorium, which was also in the center, was fast, more than he wanted it to be. The radio was tuned to a local station, but the voices seemed pure static in the brunette's brain, which felt as if his brain mass had turned into hot gelatin.

He got out of his  _ Ford  _ _ Maverick  _ _ LDO  _ — an old car he bought from a junkyard as soon as he married his husband — and checked his wristwatch, swallowing hard. He got into the huge brick building without looking back, or he'd get in the old car and come home like a coward.

He entered the huge auditorium and saw  Wonwoo in the chairs in front of the stage, scribbling on some papers, completely oblivious around. He had to scratch his throat to get his attention, pulling out a brownish smile.

— I thought you were going to chicken out, but turns out that you really made it to here? Congrats. — He raised both eyebrows, receiving  a eye roll in response. — Ready? We have 10 minutes left, I’m surprised no one came in.

— Maybe they know it's a stick.

At the 10-minute interval, Seungcheol lit a cigarette. Three young men, a young man and two girls, entered shortly after, and then a flood of young actors came in. The hearings began in a short time, but no progress was made.

Seungcheol's eyes looked at those young faces and saw only despair or greed. They were beautiful young men and women, of all colors, sizes and ages, but none of them seemed to carry passion in their eyes. Although some came very close, the two men could only see there a possible brief and empty relationship, of at most months.

It was 4pm when the auditions were closed and  Wonwoo was already looking hard at his friend when he saw his disheartened feature, both starting to put the pastes together when the youngsters were all gone.

— Don't be discouraged, we can try again. — Wonwoo murmured, hopeful.

— Come on, just forget this all. — The brunette didn't even take his eyes off the papers he pretended to be interested in reading. — I'm fine like this. 

— Am I too late?

A voice cut the uncomfortable dialogue between friends, which was not a bad thing, and the pairs of eyes fell on the platinum-haired boy who had just arrived. He wore a black  _ Balenciaga  _ blouse, light-washing jeans, black sneakers, a large black padded jacket, and a dark blue aviator-style beanie, as well as the brown paper briefcase he held in one hand. If it wasn't for the features and physique, he'd pass himself as a teenager.

His eyes were strangely captivating, calm and mesmerizing, causing a delayed, even somewhat melancholy, effect on the two men seated. They watched the boy walking towards both of them silently and leaving his briefcase on one of the tables, bowing in respect and leaving soon after. 

His presence seemed like a collective delirium until  Wonwoo moved from his position, picking up the newly delivered briefcase while the older one still seemed to be reasoning and understanding what had happened at that time. The sound of paper caught his eye and he turned around, straightening his glasses to see the contents of the folder.

— Lee Jihoon. His name is Lee Jihoon. — Jeon said.


	2. Camera.

** CAMERA. **

** T ** he **** pastes were crushed or burned, except for the boy's briefcase that arrived last. It was stored in  Seungcheol's purse, which had as its first act to send a message to the one who captivated him like never before. He had not felt this way even with his former partners, including the father of his son.

Maybe Jihoon was smart and already knew that it was all a fraud, because he didn't even mention the audition once during the two weeks they spent talking only for messages, time they considered as a test for them to know each other and know each other's intentions. He found out a lot about him during that time.

He discovered that Lee Jihoon was 12 years younger, lived alone in a traditional house almost outside the capital, worked as a ballet dancer, enjoyed classical music and had been single since he broke up with his former partner for "differences of opinion", which he did not specify. He was looking for an intense and trustworthy relationship, exactly what the elder was also looking for. 

Jihoon's manner was charming and captivating, but what really didn't come out of Seungcheol's head was his angelic appearance: his pale skin like rice, his lips pink as gum, his dark, round eyes like nuts, everything in him looked perfect. Men and women like Jihoon were rare and very powerful.

Even knowing how dangerous this was, the brunette was creating a sense of neediness on top of the boy, mainly because he seemed willing to supply them. It wasn't a good idea to hold on so fast to a boy he met two weeks ago at a fake audition, but that's exactly what was going on and there was nothing he could — or wanted — to do about it.

When they completed a month of talking,  Seungcheol gathered courage and invited Jihoon on a date — a dinner at  _ Korea House,  _ a restaurant the elite used to frequent and their favorite. He wasn't in a hurry, but he knew that relationship wasn't going to evolve into a romantic relationship, which would in the future become an even stronger relationship, if he didn't see his possible partner in person.

The meeting was scheduled and the days passed, until the date finally arrived. After dispatching Chan to a friend's house, Seungcheol went to get ready with a fast-beating heart like a bullet train. He ended up wearing a black turtleneck blouse, skinny pants and an overcoat of the same color, straightening his strands with his hand. 

When he arrived at the restaurant where the meeting was scheduled, the sun had just set on the horizon, among the mountains from where the establishment was placed next. He confirmed his reservation and was taken to the table he booked, anxiously awaiting the presence of his companion.

Jihoon was simply angelic in those clothes. Wearing a white blouse, jeans and a baby blue overcoat, he could even make such a simple outfit look like a catwalk model clothing when it gained life on his body. He made a point of getting up and pulling the chair to the boy, who thanked him with a discreet smile. Sitting face to face, the silence lasted a while.

— So... —  Seungcheol broke the ice, smiling small. — Lee-ssi, hm?

— Please, let's put the formalities aside. Just call me Jihoon. — The platinum asked, showing his teeth for the first time since they met. — You have made a very good choice, both from the restaurant and from the table. 

— It was a good surprise to have the same establishment as a favorite, I wanted it to be even more special. —  Seungcheol murmured and smiled back, opening the menu and passing his eyes through the various options; it was a very fancy establishment. — I think I'm going to order  _ a foie gras,  _ what about you?

— Escargot. — The boy's request was unusual, mainly because people his age did not used to enjoy refined cuisine.

The two ordered the waiter and were left alone again, silent. The elder ordered a Castillo  _ Ygay Blanco 86  _ wine to accompany and soon the two were being served in their glasses.

The first sip in white wine went down the dry throats and the two men looked at each other, laughing softly when they realized that they also shared a taste for refined wines.

— You know... This wine was Also Daniel's favorite. — Jihoon murmured suddenly, surrounding the edge of the glass with the tip of the index finger. The eldest cast a strange look at him, not understanding the reason for the mention. — It reminds me of the time when our relationship was enlightened, when suddenly everything sank into darkness. Ah, bittersweet memories. — He opened a small smile, taking another sip.

— Hm... I'm sorry to ask, but why did you break up? — Seungcheol asked, too disconcerted to change the subject suddenly. 

— Don't apologize. He broke my trust, so I put an end to him. — The boy took another sip, raising his eyes to the face of Seungcheol and smiling small. — To the relationship.

— It’s fine, you did well.

More silence followed until the moment the food arrived, breaking the uncomfortable moment as they would not have time to talk while eating. The two thanked the waiter and smiled at each other before concentrating on eating.

Seungcheol's eyes focused on Jihoon. The platinum took one of the snail shells with the help of the  hashis and brought it close to the lips, enough to wrap the cooked meat and slurp the mollusk into his mouth as if eating noodles. The scene would be disgusting with anyone else, but he could only see the boy's lips opening minimally as he crunched the appetizer between his teeth. His eyes fell on his companion's plate and he opened a little smile.

— Do you know what  _ foie gras is,  _ Seungcheol?

The brunette was cutting a thin slice of the meat when he heard the question, sticking the portion with the teeth of the fork and nodding minimally with his head, curious which way that question was going to take.

— Goose liver. — He answered himself before the other could speak, chewing another of the cooked snails. — But do you know how  _ this foie gras _ on your plate was made? — He asked another rhetorical question. — They breed these geese in captivity only to produce  _ foie gras. _ They induce forced fattening... Every day, for an indefinite period, they insert a metal pipe of 20 to 30 centimeters that goes from the mouth to the stomach of the goose, through which they force the feeding with grains and anything that bloats the animal to the point of consumption. 

Seungcheol was still chewing a piece of his foie gras when the boy began to say those things, feeling a lump form in his throat. He felt as if he had smeared a handful of vermin in a pit and placed them in his mouth, because he could not swallow the crushed mass resting on his tongue.

— This point of consumption happens when the goose develops a disease called "hepatic steatosis", and at that point the esophagus has already reached 10x its original size. No wonder they get to that point, they need to swallow pounds and pounds of food. — He drank another sip of wine, bursting the eyes of one of the snails between his teeth. — Some, due to the urgency of vomiting, end up dying asphyxiated or having their throats pierced by the pipe, because they struggled in an attempt to escape. Some countries have banned the practice and sale and consumption  _ of foie gras _ for this, but I'm seeing  a beautiful  _ foie gras _ right in front of me. That goose must have been fort-fed for a long, long time.

Crisping his lips, the businessman felt like vomiting. He swallowed with great cost what he had in his mouth and smiled blandly, without understanding how they got to that point. Nevertheless, he cleaned the dish. Even without appetite, the platinum's eyes itself almost forced him to finish his indigestible dinner, perhaps just the internal pressure the man was doing for himself to please his first suitor in years.

At the end of the meeting, Seungcheol said goodbye to the boy with a tight hug and waited for him to get into the private car he called before getting into his own car, heading for his home. The son was dumped on the couch watching some series when he arrived and the two greeted each other with nods. The young man stayed where he was and his father went to his room, dying for a rest.

After a well-taken bath, Seungcheol dressed in a cotton shorts and lay on the bed, fiddling with wet hair while watching every notification and message he received while away. One in particular caught his eye, as it was Jihoon. And he wanted to travel.

It was very difficult for the man to get a break from work after all the things he did with Wonwoo, but it was even harder to deny something to his possible passion with strange knowledge and resentment for his former partner. He said that in three months, they would work it out and spend days at the Lotte Hotel Seoul Executive so they could visit Bukhansan Mountain. 

Until then, the relationship has evolved more and more. It was beautiful to see, Seungcheol's happiness was immense and he really enjoyed the presence of Jihoon, who seemed equally happy with the relationship they had. They were like newlyweds, even though they never met in each other's house. 

The day finally came, and Seungcheol couldn't be more excited. He had packed his bags for weeks and arranged a way for Chan to spend the weekend at relatives' homes, so there was no chance of unforeseen circumstances; yet anxiety gave him no rest. He felt nervous, because even though they had been dating for four months, he still couldn't accept it and believe that he was being wanted by someone after 10 years alone.

He had arranged to meet the youngest at the hotel, so he took his car and went straight to the place where he had made the reservations; a very expensive money to spend, but a price that was worth it, considering it was a help to get into the heart of his darling. 

He checked in and was informed that the platinum was already waiting for him in the room, which made him anxious twice. He entered the elevator and crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the floor of the metal box while not reaching his destination. The floor chosen by the two was one of the latter, as they used to be the most empty in relation to the others in hotels.

He went out in the hallway and took the card out of his pocket, unlocking the automatic door. The sight he had was  incredibly cute: sitting on the bed while wearing a black blouse almost twice his size and jeans, Jihoon was well accommodated in bed. He had already gotten rid of his shoes and socks, and seemed to be almost falling asleep.

— Oh, you're here! — He murmured softly as he looked up, smiling small.

— I'm sorry I made you wait.

— I arrived too early, it was my fault.

After the older one settled properly in the room, the two decided to explore the hotel. On the first day, they visited half the facilities, as it was a huge place, but it was enough. At dinner, they ate spicy fried chicken. They slept with their backs to each other, as Choi did not know if he should hug the other from behind and bury his nose in the beautiful nape of his neck.

Saturday was progressive. It all started when Jihoon innocently suggested that the two visit the hotel's sauna, which had a limit of 10 people per session in each cabin. The two were wearing their typical sauna clothes as they relaxed and the silence  reined , but  Seungcheol could only face the boy's white thighs, teasing him by a path that ended in the bathrobe bar, hidden. 

They decided to have dinner later or order food because they were exhausted. They arrived in the room and the older one was ready to suggest some good place they could buy dinner, when he turned his back and came across that scene.

Facing the wall, Jihoon had undone his robe and was completely naked. His white skin shone, soggy in sweat, but even something of that nature made him beautiful; his strong muscles, especially those of his butt, stood out even more in the position that the boy was, with one of his knees slightly bent. Some very ugly scars, especially in the region of the legs, stained the little one's body, but none of this took away his beauty.

Over his shoulder, he stared at  Seungcheol , catching him in the act during his unobtrusive  scanning . The brunette swallowed hard, but suddenly the younger began to walk towards him with the usual serene expression, this time, however, with predation in the eyes. 

He could not remember whether he was himself to start the kiss or if the initiative started from the lowest, but soon they were already kissing and  Seungcheol took his hands to the delicate body of the boy, squeezing the flesh against his fingers willingly. He felt alive again, feeling a  reassuring sensation reaching him.

In the blind footsteps, the two fell into bed. A grip on the thigh region made the youngest moan against the mouth of another, as his tongue was sucked. Jihoon's hands undid the lasso of the elder's robe and threw the piece to the ground, strolling through the tanned and bare skin as if he were touching gold.

At some point in the night,  Seungcheol was inside Jihoon, with all his virility pulsating inside the flesh of the other like a fast-pounding heart. The two groaned loudly and moved like animals, seeking only pleasure and following their pure instincts in that game of seduction. The bed barely resisted the brutal rite, swinging violently. At some point in the night, Seungcheol slipped a "I love you". 


	3. Action.

** ACTION. **

** S ** eungcheol woke up with his eyes burning, the clarity reaching his retinas so violently that he felt the luminosity tearing inside his eye cell as if he were being blinded. He tried to open his eyes again in vain, then groped the bed; despair struck him at feeling the vacant place.

With his heart pounding, the man forced himself to open his eyes once more and groaned in pain, managing to separate the eyelids and confirming Jihoon's absence in the environment. He tried to move, but his body was paralyzed, in addition to the strong, sweet smell of something impregnating his nostrils. 

Grunting,  Seungcheol used all the strength he had to propel himself forward, managing to lift his torso for 2 seconds before falling back on his bed again, feeling weak. He counted another 10 seconds and forced himself again, his eyes still sore by the clarity. He ended up standing up, but  regreted it in the same time.

His limbs, once dormant, reaved sensitivity and then his muscles were swept away by a painful feeling of cramp, as if he were being consumed from the inside out. He only managed to stagger to the side, falling on his tummy into bed. His face buried himself in the sheets smelling of sex and he grunted in pain, trying to understand what happened.

A few memories began to pop up in his confused head, like a recap. His cheeks gained a red coloration as he remembered the violent sex he had with the youngest, recalling the strong slap he gave to the boy's face while howling with pleasure.

He remembered when the platinum rode him, when they leaned on the window, the furniture they broke during a change of position, of the words spoken. He vaguely remembered saying he loved the youngest and being smothered with questions about whether he was the only one who had his love, but couldn't remember if it was before the third orgasm or after telling about Chan and his late husband to Jihoon.

The realization struck Seungcheol and he remembered part of the end of the night. He remembered the platinum's face taking an expression he did not know and the offer of a tantric massage, but forgot everything else that unfolded after he received an oil massage on his testicles. It was probably the origin of the sweet smell.

A few more minutes were needed for the older man's body to stop collapsing and he could get out of bed, looking around the hotel room. The bags of the boy had all disappeared, even the clothes thrown on the ground were no longer there; the only trace that Lee Jihoon were in that room were the marks on Choi Seungcheol's body.

Properly dressed, the boy descended to the hotel reception, straightening his tousled hair with his fingertips. He stopped at the counter and caught the attention of the girl who was there, feeling his throat dry.

— Excuse me, miss. Can you tell me if Lee Jihoon checked out? — He asked, hopeful that he would receive a negative.

— Let me see on the system... — Asked for a moment, looking at the computer screen in front of you. — Yes, sir, that's right. Your stay lasts until tomorrow if you wish to stay.

He couldn't answer the woman, returning to the room completely static. A hole had remained in his chest, an indescribable and immeasurable pain, a sense of emptiness so great that it consumed him as if he had brought down the house of cards he was in. He sat on the double bed and buried his face between his hands, sighing.

In the same way he disappeared from the hotel room, Jihoon disappeared from his life. He was surprised to unlock the phone and don’t even find the conversation with the platinum, but the strange thing was that the file with his number collected in the hearing was also gone. It was like he didn't even exist.

The pain of losing the youngest was even worse than the pain of losing Jeonghan or Joshua, and Seungcheol was not proud of it, but he didn't even want to change that fact, as he wasn't even feeding or sleeping straight, like a widower dealing with his grief again.

Even his son had already realized that. He had told the teenager about Jihoon at a dinner, fearing he would not get the news well, but realized that he was further away from the boy than he imagined when he didn’t even reacted, only asked if he could meet him someday.

— Dad, are you sure you're going to be okay alone? I mean, I'm dying to ski with the guys, but I'm worried about you. — Chan murmured, all dressed up and with his ski on his back. — It's snowing. Wonwoo's out of town. Your colleagues went on the day off. You really want to stay here with no one?

— Sometimes a man needs to be alone for a while and think before he can get over something. —  Seungcheol smiled small, taking off his son's cap to mess up his hair. — All boys your age are relieved to travel without their parents, you are really different.

— Maybe. Well... I'm meeting the boys at Mingyu's, okay? I'll call you when I get to the mountain.

With a hug,  Seungcheol dispatched his son halfway back, returning when the sun began to set at the end of the street. The sliding door of the house was half oppened, as it was a safe neighborhood, so the man just slid it off after taking off his shoes on the door and entered, closing it and entering solitude. 

It wasn't something he was saying to the four winds, but one of the biggest reasons he hadn't found anyone was the immense aversion to single people with children, even if, for the most part, only small children. This was a blow to anyone, but Choi always pretended not to care for fear of making his son think he was a hindrance for his father to overcome the loss of his partner.

That was the reason why he hid the teenager's existence for Jihoon, which didn't help much since he had been missing for two months. He already imagined a perfect future with the boy, but at the same time he already imagined that something like this was going to happen for three specific reasons.

1\. He knew nothing about platinum beyond his name and the little he told him. Details of his personal life were never told, so he only knew of Jihoon which he allowed him to know.

2\. Jihoon was 12 years younger. They had different prospects and wills, and this would generate conflict at some point in the relationship, sooner or later. No one knew, butJeonghanwas already seeking divorce papers months before he died, even if there was only a two-year gap. 

3\. The boy was strange, even if he did not want to talk so about his passion. Sudden outbreaks, torrents of personal information rarely... Jihoon, for sure, was someone hurt by time, but he couldn't tell what made him become like this and how he could change that. It was scary to know he could end up hurting such a fragile boy.

Maybe it wasn't to be. It would be painful to overcome that rapture passion, but it wouldn't be impossible, at least that's how the man liked to think about the bad times of his life.

Bored, he ended up picking up the yogurt pot again, which he was eating before sending Chan on his trip, from the table and sat on the couch, eating a spoonful with will. The taste, however, was strange. He was eating pure Greek yogurt, so that weird taste took him by surprise.

What made him go into a state of alert was the smell that dessert was now exuding, because he already knew that smell. It was exactly the same smell of the oil Jihoon used when he gave him a massage at the hotel, it was unmistakable and too unique to forget.

A heavy drowsiness hit him hard, something he didn't feel before eating the yogurt. He felt his body softened on the couch and only had time to drop the yogurt package on the floor, seeing the carpet dirty with white as he fell on the couch, motionless. All of a sudden, all he could do was move his eyes, and that's when he could see.

Coming from the kitchen, bathed in the shadows and illuminated only by some orange rays escaping from the tipper, Jihoon stopped in the middle of his living room. He held a briefcase in one hand and had that same look, but this time the brunette was not happy to see that look. He was afraid. He ended up closing his eyes, not without first shedding a tear of despair and fearing for his fate.

He woke up who knows how long after, when he regained consciousness. This time he didn't feel his eyelids aching, but he felt the same numbness in his body. He opened his eyelids slowly and had his eyes swallowed by the pitch of the house, as the only light came from the yard. His blood froze when he finally saw the silhouette of the platinum, because he was looking at him.

— So you finally woke up. Too bad you missed your chance to watch the sunset with me. — Jihoon's tone of voice was cheerful, but his expression was the same as always. A little mortified, maybe. Now he knew he wasn't calm, but disturbing. — It's okay. You'll have countless sunsets in which you'll remember me, almost as if I were here.

Seungcheol's eyes moved to keep up with Jihoon's movements, who began to slowly surround the couch as if it were a shark prowling a castaway, just waiting for the time to eat.

— Have I ever told you about my stepfather,  Seungcheol ? He was a very bad man... — He did a beak with his lips when talking. — I've always enjoyed dancing, but I didn't find this passion of my own free will. My stepfather forced me to dance perfectly for him. You know what he'd do if I couldn't? — He asked another rhetorical question, a craze of his own. — He’d burn my legs with lighter fluid and beat me. My father went to live in Haiti and my mother was about to die, so I couldn't escape. After my mother succumbed to the disease, I ran away from home and went to live alone. 

He stopped walking and took a briefcase in the corner of the couch, opening it and stirring inside it. He took out a small box with a glass lid and then placed the object in the field of view of the eldest, who had his eyes open; it was a box full of needles. 

— He didn't have both legs. I don't remember if it was an accident or illness, but he lived in a wheelchair. I wonder how a teenager at the height of his vitality got beaten up from a wheelchair. — He laughed softly, as if he had told the funniest joke of all. — I began to get involved to several people and they all reminded me of my stepfather, so when they hurt me or lied to me, I made them the same as my stepfather physically. Daniel betrayed me, so I cut off both feet and his tongue. This also happened to others... Five, six boys. I don't remember.

Seungcheol's neck and shoulders began to tingle and then he discreetly forced movement in the rest of his arms, trying to move. I knew if I didn't do something, I'd be next on Lee Jihoon's list of victims.

— You lied, Seungcheol. Why you did that? I asked you if your heart was only mine and you said yes, but how can you say that if you have a son who loves a lot and still loves a husband who's touched you too? — He frowned, troubled to say those words. — You don't know how much it hurts me to know that your heart is not just mine. You love other people. 

He managed to move his fingers at the same moment Jihoon took one of the frame-ups on top of the dresser and broke it with a blow, knocking the object to the floor and spreading glass all over the carpet. The platinum turned and approached the bag, beginning to touch it again.

At that moment,  Seungcheol used all his strength to grab the  reomote control, which was on the table. The younger one failed to stop the man from turning on the radio at full volume and then removing his batteries, throwing them under a huge closet. He remembered that he was listening to a playlist of classical music hours earlier when his neighbor came to complain about the loud sound. Maybe she'd come to his rescue if she listened to the music.

Jihoon went in the direction of the closet and tried to push him, but, even though he was strong, was no match for the furniture; since they moved in, the Chois have never moved it. Seeming frustrated, the boy then went in the direction of the radio, but what was not his surprise to realize that the socket was behind another furniture, which had a narrow and dimly lit span. Turning on the lights would get too much attention.

— What do I do with you, eh? — He clicked his tongue, trying to reach the wire of the radio to turn it off, but the space was narrow and too dark for him to see. — You are lucky that I am in love with _ Piotr Ilitch Tchaikovsky _ . I would have broken his legs before cutting off his feet if we were listening to any  Beethoven  _ symphony,  _ they are the  symphonies I hate the most. Half my legs burned with  _ "Für Elise"  _ in the background. — The boy moved away from the furniture and wielded one of the needles between his index finger and thumb, slowly approaching. — Where's the fuse box?

Seungcheol did not respond, more concerned about the needle the younger one had in hand. With the radio at full volume playing after 6pm, Jihoon had no time to waste, so he soon sat on the older man's chest and pulled him by the hair, leaving his neck exposed. 

— Maybe that'll make you talk.

Quick and sudden, the younger's fingers buried the needle in the brunette's throat, which released a winch while feeling the object going through his trachea. He felt a sharp and strange pain, sticking his nails in the upholstery of the couch as he tried to move, desperate.

Despite this, Jihoon did not stop there and took another needle in the small box, this time a little smaller, burying it in Seungcheol's jaw to the end; not enough, he even pushed the needle with his thumb, making sure it would be well buried in the flesh, between the bones of the chin. The brunette's mouth was filled with blood as the tip of the needle came out from under his tongue, causing him to shed tears of pure pain. 

— Where is the fuse house, Seungcheol? — He asked calmly, drying the tears of the face of the other with his thumb of blood. — There are still 3 more needles left and I know many places in your body that you can still feel.

With no choice, the brunette blinked to ward his eyes and moved his head minimally upwards toward the door. The area had laundry and fuse box, which controlled the electricity of the house and the sidewalk as well.

— Thank you, Seungcheol. I'll be right back, don't move. — The youngest blinked, rising. 

For the few seconds the door was open, the backyard light lit up the whole room and showed Jihoon better: he wore a red high-collared blouse, cream khaki pants and black sneakers, a look too simple for someone who was about to commit an amputation, perhaps followed by death. The platinum smiled as he noticed the eyes on him, closing the door before going towards the fuses. 

Seungcheol's legs began to tingle the moment he managed to move his arms, using them to support his weight and rise up on the couch. Getting back on the side made the needle of his chin move uncomfortably and breathing made the needle in his throat move, so he needed to get rid of it as soon as possible. Counting to three, the man's fingers closed on the tip of the needle.

Removing the foreign body from his trachea was painful, causing a splash of blood to soil his white blouse and part of the couch; luckily, the needle was inserted in the front and not on the sides of the neck, otherwise it could have hit his carotid artery and killed him by hemorrhage in a matter of minutes. 

Now it was the turn of the needle in his chin, which was sticking the part under his tongue and probably piercing it as well. The only problem was that Jihoon made a point of burying it close to the flesh, leaving very little room for the object's head to be  grabbd and removed. Luckily, the brunette hadn't cut his nails in two weeks.

Swallowing hard (and regretting the pain it caused), Seungcheol took his shaky fingers to the chin and tried to fish the tip of the needle with his nails, causing minor and painful lacerations in the process thanks to the skin that stretched in the boy's attempts to open the hole in which the needle buried himself. He managed to capture the needle with his nails and slowly began to remove it, shedding several tears in the process. 

Now, blood was dripping from his throat and chin to his sleeve blouse, which was already soaked in red.  Seungcheol tried to get up, falling hard over the table and taking the bibelots on top of it to the floor, along with him. He cursed muffled, knowing that Lee had probably heard him, but he didn't hear footsteps and it relieved him. He had fallen on the shards of glass of the frame, but that didn't stop him from dragging himself, crumpling the photo he took with Jeonghan and Chan in _ the Grand Canyon _ by accident.

The staircase was getting closer and closer and the brunette managed to get close to the first step when he saw the lights on upstairs, as he had forgotten them lit, clinging to it as if his life depended on it. He forced his body and hit his ribs on the first four steps, releasing a smothered sound to which he felt the sensitivity of the place returning by force. When his hand clung to the fifth step, however, the energy dropped completely, the appliances making a macabre symphony while the darkness swallowed it all.

Frozen in the middle of the stairs,  Seungcheol was in shock. His sweaty hand almost made him let go of the step on which he leaned, so nervous that he became. He managed to climb up just one last step when he heard the sound of the door sliding slowly, making him urinate in his pants in fear. Drips tricked down the stairs, as the elder turned slowly backwards.

Still at the door as if it were a spirit, only Jihoon's shadow could be identified. The moonlight lit him down from behind, but the rest of the house was swallowed up by pitch. The silence was terrifying and disturbing, as was the smile the boy opened when he saw the elder in the middle of the stairs, wearing gray shelter pants wet with urine.

— Oh, you urinated with fear. — Laughed, sliding the door. — Don't worry, huh? It's going to end faster than you think. Let me just get some matches. 

Not caring about the fact that his victim was trying to escape, Jihoon was wandering through the darkness toward the kitchen, where he predicted they would have the matches. Little did he know that in Seungcheol's room, there was a phone from which he could call the police, and that's what he was willing to do.

His legs did not stop tingling during the journey, with only 5 steps to be left upstairs, but it seemed increasingly difficult to breathe because of the injuries and the possible drug Jihoon put in his yogurt. Maybe sleeping pills, chloroform, anything. All He knew was that his heart was racing as if he was about to go through a heart attack and that he was managing to move his toe.

The last step arrived and  Seungcheol managed to lay his pecs on the smooth floor of the second floor, touching his face on the wooden ground to rest for a few seconds or would not get it. What made him nervous again was to see, at the beginning of the stairs, a luminosity approaching and getting stronger and stronger.

Flitting and flickering, the light lit up his living room with portraits, beads and yogurt glasses scattered across the carpet and floor, as well as the blood that stained the furniture and the trail down the stairs. At the height of the clarity was the lamp Jihoon lit with the help of the match he was looking for. The bastard lit a lamp, and smiled proudly at it.

— Before I cut the light, I decided to take a look around the house and found this lamp in your tool shed. It turns out it came in handy.

Slowly the boy began to climb with the lamp in one hand and his suitcase in the other, but so slowly that it did not even give the impression of movement. That was a lot more terrifying than running up or walking normally.

— Is that where you'd rather I cut off your feet? Well, bad luck for you and anyone who comes to your rescue. That's if they come in time. I know your son has been traveling with his friends and that your friend is out of town. — He shrugged. — I've been studying your routine all this time, you know? I had to get off the map. On the day of the hotel, I used chloroform to pass you out and then  I deleted my number from your conversations, then I got your address by going through your phone,  I took advantage of your son was out and threw the plug with my number out.

The boy's way of telling him he had been hanging around for two months left him goosebumps and more tears flowed down his face as he realized how vulnerable he was to that demon. He could do whatever he wanted with you at that moment, and nothing would stop him.

— Oh, I also got a copy of your house key. I came by car and I was prowling around the neighborhood, when you and Chan left, and I went in and put chloroform in your yogurt. — The smile that the boy opened was small, he didn't even show his teeth, but it was macabre enough to make the older one think he was going to pee again. — Now, let's get this over with.

The lamp was put on the ground near the boys, and the suitcase was two steps down, where Jihoon moved to again. This time he took out a rope, which left Seungcheol very confused until the lamp better illuminated the environment and showed him the horror he was about to experience physically.

Much like the rope of an instrument, the steel cable was long and had a ring at each end, probably made to fit the finger. As if it wasn't disturbing enough, small teeth-shaped saws surrounded the rope, probably the same size as domestic knife saws, but large enough to do damage, especially depending on where they would be used. 

— I always need to shop when I have to solve this kind of problem, but that's the one thing I never need to buy again. — Jihoon donned a pair of black gloves, smiling as he stared at the object. — The first amputation I did was with a guitar string, but it was very time consuming and I almost got caught. It was while watching a cooking show that I met this rope. The cook sawed a ham with such mastery, you needed to hear the sound of bones breaking. They were like nuts being broken. Delicious.

Seungcheol's eyes widened when he realized what was going to happen and he tried to pull away, but one of Jihoon's icy hands grabbed his ankle and pulled him lower, causing him to grunt in frustration. The boy pulled scissors out of the bag and used it to cut the fabric of the pants that the older man wore to the shin, throwing the tatters down the stairs. 

— Jihoon, please... — He muttered with difficulties, forgetting  _ the  _ fact that he still had  a voice. — Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t do it.

The elder's voice seemed to stir a little with the boy, who lifted his eyes. Both had their eyes full of tears and Jihoon's were the first to fall, descending down his face full of sorrow.

— Please, Jihoon, forgive me. I never meant to hurt you. — Seungcheol begged, shedding tears too. 

His despair grew as the boy hooked his telltale fingers into the rope rings, stretching it for a moment. He then loosened one of the rings only to pass the object under the older man's ankle, getting right on his heel. 

— If I forgive you, I'll be giving you a chance to hurt me. I can't allow something like this. So I'm going to hurt you first. — He murmured, smiling a little. 

Before  Seungcheol could process the sentence, the younger one hooked his finger to the other ring and then dragged the rope willingly, causing its saws to curl up on the skin and drag shreds of flesh with it. Choi's sensibility came back all at once and from his lips came out a spine-freezing cry, as the platinum began to pull the rope from side to side as if playing tug-of-war alone.

The saws took a while, but soon began to smash the tendons and ligaments of  Seungcheol's ankle, which writhed and screamed as Jihoon kept his expression serene and smiling discreetly, nor caring about the amount of blood that stained his pants and dripped down the steps like a red waterfall. As if listening to  _ Tchaikovsky's _ __ symphony _ ,  _ Jihoon closed his eyes and let himself smile openly, showing off his little white teeth.

The sound of bones being broken echoed, and at that point,  Seungcheol had already stopped screaming and only let desperate and strange sounds come out of his lips, choking with the blood in his mouth and crying. His vision was blurred and white dots danced around his eyes, but he could clearly see what Jihoon was doing and listen too; the sound of his foot being mutilated did not seem at all like nuts being broken.

A larger squirt splashed on the platinum's face and on the brunette's pectoral, who was beginning to feel unconsciousness hit him so much the pain he was feeling. His eyes went down to what was happening and widened: Jihoon held his foot in his hand, but he was not completely severed, as a huge strand of flesh and skin still connected it to his body. He saw the piece of bone in the amputated foot and also in its stump, which spouted blood — pointy and sharp, like a broken knife or bottle.

He didn't even feel the rest of his foot removed, he just put his head on the ground and continued crying in pain, his head spinning and his whole body screaming for help. The youngest kittened until entering his field of vision and shook his amputee foot in his hand, smiling.

— Look, we're almost done. Hold on a little longer. — Jihoon smiled, as if he had not finished ripping off the poor thing's foot. — It's going to hurt a lot less now that the adrenaline's at its peak. 

Stirring in the briefcase again, the boy surprisingly pulled out a cloth and began to clean the blood that spreaded, also picking up a plastic bag in which he stuck Choi's amputated foot. He seemed extremely meticulous in his deeds, which left Seungcheol distraught.

That's when he realized he could move his leg, the one that still had one foot. He took advantage of the younger one's distraction to bend his fingers hard, realizing that it sent waves that stopped the tingling and gave the man capacity again. He looked down the stairs and looked at Jihoon, realizing he had only one chance. 

With a powerful kick,  Seungcheol threw his foot against Jihoon's chest, knocking him to the side. Cursing, the lower used the scissors and nailed it to the thigh of the brunette, who howled in pain and ended up kicking the youngest with his leg amputated. 

The tip of the bone went straight into the eye of the platinum, blinding it and at the same time causing an indescribable pain to the amputee, who used the foot to detach from the eye cavity of the other. He watched the boy roll down the stairs without producing a sound, as if it were a rag doll. Several heavy sounds echoed and the fall seemed endless, until he heard a big thud followed by a snap. And that sounded like the sound of a walnut being broken. 

Knowing he was going to end up bleeding to death,  Seungcheol gave up. Lying on the stairs, with one of his feet completely amputated, two needle holes in his face and scissors stuck in his thigh, he would end up dying in a very short time, as the only person who could find him would only return in two days.

It was as uncomforting as knowing that it would not be rescued to hear the sound of Jihoon rising. He forced his eyes and took the lamp with his free hand, seeing the boy slowly approaching. There was a small relief on his neck and his head hung to the side, proving that he had probably hurt himself badly in the fall. His blouse was torn, with shards of glass clinging to his skin. The sawn rope was wrapped in his hand, probably tangled and stuck in the flesh during the fall.

— Enough... — That's what he was able to murmur, spitting along with those words, his blood, which flowed down his chin.

As slowly as before, Jihoon began climbing the stairs in the direction of Seungcheol, wanting to reach him. For a moment, the brunette saw Jeonghan still at the beginning of the stairs, like a spectator watching an incredible spectacle. He thought of Wonwoo, Chan, Joshua, his neighbor, almost as if he were watching his life pass before his eyes before he died.

— Dad? The ski resort was closed and I decided to go home.

The teenager's voice caused the two adults to freeze. Jihoon turned slowly and saw the brownish man still at the door, holding his things and getting rid of the ski he was holding. The boy did not seem to understand the situation until he realized that the house was all dark and that there was a strange figure on the stairs.

— What happened to the lights? — He frowned, seeing a man of short stature still on the steps all stained with blood, staring deeply at him. — What the - who are you?

— Chan, run! — Seungcheol shouted, with the rest of the forces he had.

The scream not only alerted his son but also his captor, who then jumped towards the boy and threw himself over him, using the rope as an English punch to try to tear the boy's throat with a blow. The brownish barely had time to react, with the other sitting on his chest.

Luckily, Jihoon was bewildered by the neck injury and for hitting his head several times during the fall. This gave Chan a chance to aim a well-given slap on the man's ear to disorient him, who made a really weird noise with his neck and flew to the other side of the room. The teenager balanced himself and kicked Lee's belly, who coughed up blood before grabbing his leg with his hand tied to the steel rope, causing the boy to grunt through the burning of the saws by squeezing him.

  
Seungcheol was desperate, hearing the grunts of his son and Jihoon without being able to see them, because of the weight his eyelids seemed to have at the time. Even the sounds were failing to seem coherent, the bangs turning into annoying and repetitive buzzing.

With both hands around the teenager's neck, Jihoon was willing to kill him as well. Luckily he wore a thick coat that prevented him from having his throat torn by the saws, but was being suffocated. His hands spread across the floor, squeezing the shards and even the photo of his parents, finishing tearing it in the midst of that chaos.

That's when he touched the yogurt pot, grabbing the viscous liquid between his fingers before rubbing it on Jihoon's face, who let go of an animalistic squeal and threw himself off the teenager, trying to wipe the poisoned snot. That was the cue for the teenager to stand up and look for his father, staggering to the first steps, from where he could see him.

His father's left foot looked like an anemone, with reddish, pinkish, shredded flesh like a cutting of paper, bleeding in cascading — even sure he had his hand in the scarlet liquid coming out of the wound of his dad. A single white dot, the severed bone, looked like porcelain, contrasting with all the vivid colors of the stump left over from the man's leg. He couldn't hold the vomit, which soiled the fourth step and was trickling down the steps. 

— Chan, please... r-run... —  Seungcheol murmured, his face already colorless and his lips purplish. — For God's sake...

He used his efforts and pulled the scissors from his thigh as he howled in pain, throwing the object in the direction of his son, who screamed in despair. Even with disgust of the blood he had no choice, because he saw through the corner of his eye the shadow of the stranger protruding. He wielded the scissors and turned in a hurry, almost knocking over the object out of fear he felt seeing the boy standing in front of him.

With several injuries all over his body, Jihoon was horrible — and probably dying too. Sure he'd hurt his neck pretty badly, and the fall must have hurt him. His left eye was sunk by the puncture with the bone and now more blood was dripping, coming from the wound that the yogurt pot caused, opening the platinum’s forehead. Even his hair was dyed red, giving him a scary aura. He let out a hate-filled, body-chilling scream and set off on the teenager with a huge piece of glass in his free hand, as the other had the saws buried to the bone thanks to the boy's various falls.

Maybe instinct or hatred for losing his other father, but Chan was cunning and dodged the man's onslaught, spinning his body and then burying the scissors in Jihoon's other eyeball with all his might. The man tripped and fell on his back to the ground, causing the teenager to fall over him. In this position, Chan then pushed the scissors down while screaming in anger, tears sticking grooves in his face dirty with blood and vomit as he forced the object into the platinum's skull. He only stopped when Jihoon's legs stopped to dust, indicating that he had died. He removed the scissors from his eye, causing the eyeball to come out of the cavity along with a piece of kernel strapped to the metal tip.

Almost vomiting again, Chan staggered up the stairs towards his father, but before he could get down on the man's side, he ended up slipping down the stairs and rolling all the steps again, taking Jihoon's briefcase with him. Just stopped falling into the room, sliding into the gelatinous mixture of fluids and glass.

He grunted in pain and opened his eyes, running into the corpse without the platinum's eyes. He jumped and screamed as he crawled, sticking his hand into something gelatinous by accident in the middle of his outbreak. Trembling, the boy turned in time to see that he had unintentionally placed his hand inside the bag in which Jihoon kept Seungcheol's mutilated foot. He was holding the broken bone with his fingertips, as if he were holding a pair of hashis.

The neighbor finally heard the screams from the Choi house and called the police.


End file.
